The following is taken from the journal of Earl Yorke, January 28, 2003:
Okay… I’m going to accept what’s been poking at my brain for the last month: I have writers’ block. For the entire month I haven’t been able to do so much as write two or three pages each time I sit down. It is because of the rejection letters… I can’t help the fact that I am losing faith in my work, and it doesn’t matter how many times Dina has aggressively attempted to convince me that my books are good, I can’t accept it.
I think that I might truly be going insane… for the first time in over seven years I am not obsessing over a manuscript, short-story, or poem, and I am left feeling empty inside. Everyone tells me to relax, but how do they expect me to do that when I’m going without my only means of VENTING?! I’m beginning to wonder if I will be able to keep myself together long enough to see the birth of my son in June…
I hope that Ryan comes by today… perhaps he’ll cheer me up, becaus writing in this journal no longer seems to!
–Earl
[I can still feel the pain that overwhelmed me during this period… it lasted for two years. I eventually hardened up, finding XBOX Live to be an efficient way to purge my pain, but I was still empty within. When I heard from my uncle that he had dined with a man named Jeff Greenfield, and had told him about the failures I experienced with my writing, I felt absolutely no desire to call him. It wasn’t worth re-opening the wounds I had suffered… or atleast that was what I thought…]
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June 11th, 2005 
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